


Moonrise

by MysteriousNomdePlume



Category: Artemis Fowl - Eoin Colfer, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Gen, Hogwarts Professor Artemis Fowl, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Molly Weasley decides Artemis Fowl is her new son, Order of the Phoenix - Freeform, Owls are a slow method of communication, Post-Last Guardian, Sirius Black Lives, Stick it to the man, Suspense, The Golden Trio, The Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter) is Terrible, Werewolf Artemis Fowl, Wizard Artemis Fowl
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:22:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23329927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysteriousNomdePlume/pseuds/MysteriousNomdePlume
Summary: When Artemis is attacked by a werewolf while accompanying Holly to complete her ritual, his world collides with the hidden society of witches and wizards.  They had all better watch out; we all know what happened the last time Artemis encountered a new magical society...Takes place several months after Artemis’ resurrection in The Last Guardian and during the Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.
Relationships: Artemis - Relationship, Artemis Fowl & Harry Potter & Hermione Granger & Ron Weasley, Artemis Fowl & Luna Lovegood, Artemis Fowl & Molly Weasley, Artemis Fowl II & Remus Lupin
Comments: 49
Kudos: 161





	1. Werewolves and Wizards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Artemis is bitten by a werewolf and wakes up in a strange place. Also, Butler freaks out a little.

The beast -- and there was no other name for it -- had come careening into Artemis with no warning, no panting or rustling of the tall grass. With no pretense, without even a satisfied toss of its scarred and matted head, it was ripping into the boy before he even had the chance to scream.

Before Butler could even fire a shot off at it, Holly had rushed to Artemis’ side, thoughtless, weaponless, with only the instinct to protect her friend. But this creature spared not a thought for her, other than to swat her backward with one of it’s massive, clawed paws, which visibly gouged her abdomen, even in the darkness.

Holly fell back, and her newly-renewed magic swirled brightly around her, healing her wounds. 

With only a glance at the carnage, Butler emptied his gun into the monster’s body, but the bullets seemed to do no more than irritate the creature. With a glare at Butler, the creature picked up Artemis’ limp form in its massive jaws, then ambled away from Butler more quickly than anything its size had a right to move. It ran faster than any man, even Butler.

Butler would panic later. He took a slow breath. He would panic later. His charge may be half dead in the mouth of a creature straight out of a Stephen King novel, but panicking was for later. For now, he had work to do.

Since Artemis death, Butler had goaded the boy into wearing a tracking bracelet under the sleeve of his custom-tailored suits, and rightly circumstance had proven it necessary. 

Butler grabbed the injured Holly short in one arm, and with the other opened the tracking application on his cell phone, while also running to the car.

A small, red dot blinked quickly across the screen -- Artemis.

Butler may not be able to run as quickly as this creature, but he could sure drive as quickly.

*  
Sirius knew it had been a good idea to come out this full moon, whatever Remus said about the risk. If they had not come out, this boy would surely be dead.

They both had smelled the trail of his blood, smeared on the rocky ground as he had been dragged into the cave, and they had both smelled the other werewolf.

Moony froze and cowered back at the other wolf’s scent, but Padfoot plowed on, creeping to the mouth of the cave with a subtlety one would not expect of a creature his size. Inside, the wolf tore boredly at the boy’s flesh, seeming to attempt to incite a scream, rather than feed itself. The wolf’s back was bloody with what Padfoot could only say were bullet holes -- the wolf had encountered muggles, then.

The wolf, weakened and distracted by its plaything, did not notice Padfoot until he growled. 

The wolf looked up. Then, it slowly walked toward Padfoot, like a creature used to others cowering before it. But Padfoot did not cower. Instead, he took the wolf’s neck in his jaws, and flung the creature from the cave. The wolf stood and snarled, but soon ambled away.   
It was injured, and there was other prey to hunt tonight, anyway.

A moment later, Moony appeared at the mouth of the cave and crept to Padfoot and the boy, whose face he gently nosed aside, looking for a reaction. He received one in the form of a small, pained whine coming weakly through the boy’s lips -- still alive, then.

There was a small pop as Padfoot transformed back into Sirius.

“I’ll take him back home, Moony. We’ll do what we can for him and go from there, I suppose.” He honestly wasn’t sure they would be able to do anything at all for him, at this point. There was a lot of blood. “Well, you remember where we put your clothes. I’ll apparate back now, and you’ll come back in the morning.” Sirius looked over at Moony, who nodded. “All right then,” Sirius said to himself. He grabbed the boy on both shoulders, and then he was off to Grimmauld Place in a nauseating whirl.

*

Artemis was awakened by nothing in particular, and this was alarming. It was far into the morning, judging by the angle of the light hitting his closed eyelids, and there were no childish shrieks from Myles and Beckett playing (or loud reprimands from Juliette, for that matter). Nor was there the murmuring of his parents speaking in a room below, nor the clanging of kitchenware as Butler prepared breakfast. There was not even the low hum of the air conditioner as it circulated coolness through the old beams supporting the manor. 

But neither was there the soft sounds of inhales and exhales, or the strange, weighty feeling that indicated another person was nearby, so it was likely Artemis was alone. He opened his eyes.

The room in which Artemis found himself reminded him of a dustier, more cramped version of the manor -- like a storage room no one had touched for years. There were boxes of diverse and unidentifiable objects stacked on the floor and furniture lumped under sheets, and the bed was crammed awkwardly in a corner, with a small space of empty floor around it to stand on, and only a narrow and hazardous path leading to the door.

Artemis pulled his eyes from the room to look down at himself. His chest and arms were covered in bandage -- bandages soaked with dried blood. Tentatively, Artemis raised a hand and pressed it to one of the worst looking spots on his chest. Nothing -- not a twinge of pain.

Artemis peeled back a strip of bandage on his arm to find not a wound, but a deep trench of a scar, a miniature ravine in his skin where flesh had obviously been gouged out.

And then it came back to him -- the monster that had attacked him. He could remember nothing more than the screaming pain, flashing with bloody white teeth and the pounding of Butler’s gunshots.

Artemis had no idea where he was, or who had treated his wounds, but he was not going to find out laying in this dusty room. He pushed his legs off the bed and stood, feeling only a little sore. Then he noticed a deep blue garment folded on the nightstand. For him?

When Artemis picked the item up and let it unfold in front of him, his first thought was that it was a dress. However, when he examined the item, it had a distinctly masculine cut -- something between a medieval robe and a victorian gentleman’s suit, with silver cufflinks and buttons, and embroidery spider webbing across it’s sleeves and shoulders. Like the rest of the room, this, too, gave the impression of having been abandoned in storage for a long period of time.

Despite its elegance, it was not a suit, and therefore it was atrocious to Artemis Fowl, but it would have to do; besides the disgusting bandages, his only clothing was the torn, upper half of his dark slacks. So it was either the dress, or nakedness.

Artemis cast off the rest of the bloody bandages (which seemed to cover the entire upper half of his body, including his face) and slipped the garment over his head before buttoning it up.

Now, to explore. Artemis grabbed a dusty, but very sharp-looking (and apparently sterling silver) candelabra from its place discarded on the floor. Although Butler had always been disappointed by Artemis’ lack of interest in exercise, Artemis liked to think Butler would be proud of him for taking a weapon before exploring an unknown environment. 

Artemis twisted the antique doorknob and pushed his way into the hall, candelabra held tightly. But there was no one there, just a narrow hallway with several other old doors going along it and an even narrower staircase leading downwards. Artemis took the staircase two floors down to the bottom of the house, where he could hear voices and the sounds of someone cooking in the kitchen. 

From the last step, Artemis could see through the doorway to the kitchen, where a middle-aged, red-haired woman spoke with a man out of sight and stirred something in a small pot in her arms. She set the food and the spoon down on the countertop, then proceeded to remove a stick from a pocket in her dress, wave it over the pot, then mutter something in latin. She turned back to the man and continued her conversation.

Behind her, the spoon was stirring the pot on its own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, hanks to COVID-19, I have plenty of time to write fan fiction.


	2. A Muggle?!?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Butler and Holly continue their search for Artemis, who is having things explained to him by a some men and women who can prepare tea with the wave of a stick. There are shocks and revelations all around.

“He’s gone,” said Butler, “out of range.”

Holly’s eyes snapped in his direction. “How can Artemis be out of range? With the tracker you gave him he’d have to be on the moon!”

Butler ran a hand over his face. It was dawn, and they had been nearly on top of Artemis, according to the GPS, when his signal had disappeared with an error message. 

Holly took the device from Butler and examined the screen. “Maybe… maybe they’ve gone underground or something.” She knew this was unlikely. “Look, I’ll fly to the last location and check out the area. We’ll be able to figure out something from that.”

“Go ahead. Let me know what you find,” the man responded. Then Holly took off flying.

Above the treetops, the sun was barely visible over the horizon, painting the scattered clouds above a pale red. Holly’s abdomen was still a bit sore from the previous night, and she shouldn’t strictly have been flying right now, but that didn’t matter. Her friend could be dead. Permanently, this time. He had barely survived last time because he had time to construct a plan. This time, the attack was as much a surprise to him as anyone else. Holly’s eyes stung -- and not from the wind.

When Holly neared the spot where the tracking device had last emitted its signal, she could already sense something odd -- a swirling kind of feeling -- that was the best way she could think to describe it. As she descended, her stomach dropped. There was blood, copious amounts of blood smeared across the ground. 

Not good.

When she reached the ground, she followed the trail of darkened, crackling blood to where it led into a rocky alcove so shallow it could barely be called a cave. 

Inside, there was… nothing. No Artemis, no monster -- only a thick puddle of congealed blood.

But then, there was that swirling, undulating sensation once again. And now that Holly was closer, she could identify what it was.

Magic.

*

Artemis blinked at the scene before him. “Four, four, four, four,” he whispered to himself, waiting for the fear to come, but felt none. This wasn’t a complex-induced hallucination, then. At least there was that. Artemis took a deep, calming breath. He had seen stranger things than sorcerers during his existance.

As if aware of the distress, the red- haired, maternal-looking woman turned in his direction. She started for an instant at seeing him, but soon calmed herself and looked at Artemis with warm eyes, saying, “Oh, hello, dear. You shouldn’t be out of bed quite yet.” She quickly wiped her hands off on an apron. “Here,” she said, stepping forward. “Let me help you get back up all these stairs, sweetheart.”

Artemis stepped back, gripping the candelabra more tightly. “You would most help me, madame, by explaining to me where I am and how I got here.”

“I believe I may be of more help there,” said a man’s voice -- the same voice Artemis had heard conversing with the woman in the kitchen. Artemis had not noticed him approach. 

The man wore a garment similar to Artemis’ own, but shabbier and more dull in colored. His blond hair had small streaks of gray, and the rings under his eyes indicated that he had been either awake or worrying for some time, possibly both, and there were several scars across his nose and cheeks, varying in age and severity. But he had a kind demeanor, overall, and Artemis found himself inclined to trust the man. “My name is Remus Lupin, and this is Molly Weasley,” the man continued, gesturing at the woman beside him.

“Artemis Fowl the second,” Artemis said, nodding at them. They looked at eachother curiously.

“Well,” Remus Lupin began, “as for how you got here, I believe that conversation would be better had sitting down.” He gestured for them to follow before turning back into the kitchen, leading the other two to a small rectangular table which had been crammed so far into a corner that it was barely possible for a grown person to sit on the sides facing the walls. They must be in a city for things to be so cramped even in a residence so opulent (if dingy) as this one. They all sat, Lupin on one side, and Artemis and Molly Weasley on the opposite. (Artemis’ impression of this woman as being maternal was right, evidently.)

Mrs. Weasley withdrew her stick (magic wand?) from her pocket, and muttering something, gave it a wave, sending all the makings of a tea party flying through the air and onto the table, causing Artemis to involuntarily duck. With several more waves, the tea was making itself -- kettle levitating above the cups, leaning to fill each each, the creamer, midair, adding just enough of its contents, spoons dumping in sugar.

Once it seemed the objects had regained their natural, inanimate states, Artemis took a sip of his tea (surprisingly good). “So, will you now explain?” He wanted to get this over with, then contact Butler. This would be the third time he had done this to that poor man -- coming back from what seemed like certain death -- and he had no desire to prolong it. Thank heavens, his parents were gone on an extended holiday to Spain right now.

Across from him, Lupin coughed and leaned over, slightly flustered, obviously uncomfortable with the message he had to deliver. Artemis took another sip of tea. “Well, let’s start this way. What is the last thing you remember before waking up this morning?”

Artemis put his cup down. “I was attacked by some sort of large, wolfish creature. It was odd, perhaps some sort of genetic mutation, with its short snout and strange eyes…. I believe it dragged me somewhere. I don’t recall any more.”

Mrs. Weasley turned to him then, an expression at the edges of her eyes that Artemis would later identify as pity. “You’re right, dear. That was no normal wolf…. It was a werewolf.” 

“A werewolf,” Artemis repeated, skepticism almost leaking into his voice before he remembered that the tea on the table had made itself.

Lupin cleared his throat again and shifted uncomfortably. “Yes, a werewolf. My friend and I found you and brought you back here. We called a mediwitch to heal your wounds.”

“So, would I be right to assume that the lore regarding these creatures is correct, that I am sentenced to transform into a mindless beast every full moon for the rest of my life?”

Lupin looked into his teacup a moment, lips twitching a bit as if trying to reason out what to say. He looked up and met Artemis’ eyes. “That is the long and short of it, yes. Of course, the wolfsbane potion can be used to lessen--.”

Lupin stopped speaking abruptly when he saw Artemis had stood up.

“I am going outside for a moment,” he said, a bit shakily, to his dismay, turning to exit the room. Artemis had no idea where an exit would be, but this house was small. Surely he could find it quickly.

In his peripheral vision, he saw Mrs. Weasley stand to follow him, but she was stopped by a hand on the arm from Lupin.

On his way out, Artemis made his way through several gloomy and stifling rooms, one of them, he noted (even in his distress), that contained several youths about his age -- most of them with the same red hair as Mrs. Weasley. Their faces turned toward him in surprise and curiosity.

Just as Artemis reached a large door at the end of a narrow hallway (surely the front door), two lanky teenagers, evidently twins, materialized in front of him with two synchronous pops with enough volume to rival gunshots.

“Well, who do you reckon this is, brother?”

“Dunno, he looks a bit too Slytherin for my taste.”

Artemis was about to say something very rude, and probably detrimental to himself, given his vulnerable state, when Mrs. Weasley appeared behind him, swatting them both on the shoulder, scolding, “Boys, don’t bother him! And for the last time, stop apparating in the house!” Then she swept the two of them off somewhere else. It didn’t matter to Artemis, who quickly turned the old door’s intricate knob and stepped outside.

Artemis stumbled to the front steps and shakily lowered himself to a sitting position. His breaths were coming quickly, and his mind was beginning to feel like it was filled with that candy floss the twins loved. Only with the texture of steel wool.

Artemis took several deep breaths, clenching and unclenching his fists in the fabric of the odd garment he wore. He had to calm down; he had not been so distressed since waking up from literal death. His state was not unreasonable, he supposed, after the violent attack of yesterday, then awakening in a strange place with strange people, then being given disturbing, life changing news. Artemis relaxed his hands and focused on the scenery around him.

It was quite a nice day -- pleasant, with the sun warming his skin and a cool breeze floating through the street. Ideal. Last night had been ideal, too, before.... But none of that, now.

Along the street, sat houses of brown brick which would have seemed dingy on a grayer day, but in the light, they were almost a pale orange color, under the spattering of cotton-white clouds. Next to Artemis was a small, obviously abandoned terra cotta pot with a large chip taken off the rim. Inside, growing over something brittle and long dead, was a single, bright yellow circle of a dandelion. He reached out a finger to touch the thin petals and took another breath.

Yes, he would be all right. Artemis Fowl had faced bigger problems before with worse odds. He would manage. Arrangements could be made to prevent anyone being harmed that one night a month. And anyway, now was not the time to worry -- it was time to contact his friends.

But just as he was about to stand, an (even more) tired-looking Remus Lupin stepped out the front door. “Hello Artemis,” he said quietly. He lowered himself onto the steps next to Artemis. 

After a moment Artemis spoke. Lupin looked a bit relieved at that. “So were you saying about this -- what was it? -- the wolfsbane potion?”

“Yes, it allows a person to keep his human mind during the transformation, preventing injuries to himself and others. A potioneer here who I think we could convince to make it for you.” 

Artemis paused -- Lupin had said “I think,” meaning there was a chance this “potioneer” might not concoct this remedy for him. “What do lycanthropes do who can’t get it?”

“There are some who simply embrace the brutality of the wolf, and let it feed its carnality unrestrained, like the man who attacked you, Fenrir Grayback. He is by far the most notorious. Most, however, prefer to simply lock themselves up. During my time at school, I spent full moons in an abandoned house.” Lupin picked up a piece of decaying concrete from the steps and examined it.

“You are a lycanthrope, as well?”

Lupin looked up. “Yes, since I was a small child. My father insulted werewolves publicly once, and Grayback took it upon himself to turn me as a form of revenge.”

Artemis said nothing to this.

A moment later, a bushy haired girl opened the door and popped her head out, saying, “Professor and… er,” she hesitated as she saw Artemis before continuing, “Mrs. Weasley says lunch is ready.” She ducked back inside.

Lupin stood. “Let’s go in, Artemis. We can speak more later, but, for now, I’m sure you’re hungry. You haven’t eaten since yesterday, and you have injuries to heal.” He opened the door, and Artemis followed him back inside -- he was hungry.

Soon they had made their way to an abnormally long table in the heart of the building. Lupin sat down next to a scraggly, dark-haired man who looked like he had been kept up for many nights by unpleasant dreams, but still somehow had an air of joviality about him. The man smiled when he saw Artemis and said, “Good to see you up and about, kid. I was afraid you wouldn’t make it after Moony here and I found you last night. Sirius Black, by the way.” The man extended a hand over the back of his chair.

Artemis took it. “Artemis Fowl the second. I am well. Thank you for your concern and assistance.” Artemis nodded at Sirius Black, who smiled again and said, “Any time.” 

Artemis let go of his hand and sat on Lupin’s other side before examining the occupants of the table. To Artemis’ side there was an empty chair, obviously reserved for Mrs. Weasley, considering the red-haired man next to it -- Mr. Weasley, undoubtedly. Filling the rest of the seats could be none other than their large brood of children -- they all had the same distinctive color of hair. Among these offspring of various ages were two outliers; the bushy haired girl who had called Artemis and Lupin in for lunch and a dark-haired boy with glasses, who both sat on either side of a Weasley about their age.

This Weasley’s eyebrows had furrowed at seeing him. “Why are you here?” he asked, in the same tone one would ask why there was a fly in the pudding.

“Ron!” the girl scolded, swatting him on the arm.

“I was attacked by a werewolf and brought here to heal by Mr. Lupin and Mr. Black. And might I ask why you are here?” To the side Artemis could hear Black snort slightly. 

This “Ron” looked like he wanted to say something very rude when the girl spoke up. “How about introductions, so we can get to know each other. My name is Hermione Granger. Please call me Hermione, and know that if Professor Lupin and Sirius brought you here, you are certainly welcome.” 

“Thank you, Hermione. I am Artemis Fowl the second.”

Hermione smiled at him, and when Ron Weasley did not speak up to do his introduction, she took the liberty of elbowing his ribcage in a way that looked quite painful. “Ron Weasley,” he grunted reluctantly, and a bit breathily.

“Pleasure,” said Artemis. Then he looked at the boy with the glasses, who merely nodded him. “And who might you be?” he prompted.

The boy looked back at him, blinking. “Wait,” he said, “you really don’t know who I am?”

“Why should I? We are perfect strangers.”

Then Hermione spoke up again. “Wait, Artemis Fowl the second. You… you’re a muggle, aren’t you?”

Artemis gave her a look. “I would be better able to answer that question, Hermione, if you could tell me what a muggle is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens... ;)
> 
> I hope you all are doing well and staying safe!


	3. Levitating Dinnerware is a Desirable Skill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some Explanations are had, and Artemis gets a job.

“Foaly, what in Frond’s name do you make of this?” Holly had called and explained the situation to Foaly who was now in his office, examining the readings being transmitted from the bloody cave by Holly’s helmet. 

“Well, it’s magic, that’s for sure,” said Foaly, “But it doesn’t look much like any magic of the People I’ve ever seen.” Holly imagined him scratching his head under his tinfoil cap.  
“Well, who else has magic? Humans?” Holly scoffed.

“Honestly, with what I’m seeing here, we can’t discount the idea. The magic matches the general shape of the old witch stories. It’s weaker than, say, your magic, but much more versatile.”

“But weren’t all the magical mud men executed centuries ago?” Holly couldn’t quite recall the history, but, surely, Artemis would have mentioned if witches were still around?

“That’s what we thought, but it’s nearly impossible to stamp out any population, let alone one with such a power. It’s not that unlikely that some slipped through the cracks and went into hiding.”

Holly took a breath. “Well, as thrilling as this revelation is, it will have to wait. Our friend is in danger. Is there anything you can tell me that would help at all in finding Artemis.”

There was a pause on Foaly’s end. “The only other thing I see is that whatever they were doing, it seems to have ended abruptly. The magic seems like it was almost… torn away. I’m not quite sure what this magic does, but if I had to guess, I’d say these readings are the result of some sort of instant teleportation. 

All right, that was something -- not much, but something. She would tell Butler all she had found out, and they would make a plan. Neither of them was Artemis, but there had to be something they could make of this.

*

Across from Artemis, the trio’s eyes were wide. Hermione’s eyes were the least wide, and she responded first. “Well, a muggle is someone who doesn’t have magic, someone who can’t do things like….” Here Mrs. Weasley bustled in with an entourage of floating plates and trays of food. “...like that.”

“I have never made dinnerware levitate, to my knowledge. So I am, as you say, a ‘muggle.’” 

Everyone at the table started slightly at this, and Ron Weasley’s eyebrows climbed into his hairline. “Er, Mum…,” he turned his gaze toward her, pleadingly.

“Oh dear.” She froze, and the dishes with her. “I suppose I’d better firecall Dumbledore about this. He’ll know what to do.” She gave a wave, and all the floating objects lowered to their various places at the surface of the table. “You lot, eat while I’m doing that.” Then Mrs. Weasley was out of the room. 

Lupin took a breath and put a piece of bread on his plate. “I suppose, what we’re all wondering, Artemis, is how you can be so… accepting of all this.” He turned his face toward the boy. “Most muggles would have run screaming out of this house at the sight of levitating objects, and most certainly would not have believed anyone who had told them they had been attacked by a magical creature.”

“I have never doubted the existence of magical humans, if not now, at least at some point. Legends always spring from some form of the truth. It does not take long to accept what one has long suspected.” Artemis filled his plate with the various dishes at the table. He was hungrier than normal, almost as if he had taken part in some form of physical activity. Likely, it was all the healing his body had undergone in the past day.

Lupin nodded, and there were some hushed conversations around the table, especially from the trio across from him (they whispered in vain; Artemis could read lips), but no one spoke directly to him again. They were apparently too scared -- besides Lupin, who seemed to like him, for some reason, and Black, who could be occasionally heard laughing quietly at the apparent ridiculousness of the situation. The rest of lunch passed this way.

It was when their meals were mostly finished that Mrs. Weasley re entered the room.

“Artemis, dear,” she began, walking to him and placing a hand on his shoulder. “I need you to come meet someone. You might want to come too, Remus.”

“Very well,” said Artemis, standing up. Remus nodded and stood too, and they both followed Mrs. Weasley out of the room, apparently to meet this “Dumbledore” person she had “firecalled.” Artemis wondered if this was an expression, or if these people really did have the capability to communicate over large distances using a fireplace. 

After a short moment, they entered a living area that Artemis had glanced earlier. Within, on a large, purple cushion that was not at all in character with the room, sat the most ridiculous man Artemis had ever seen.

*

Once Mrs. Weasley had left the room with Professor Lupin and the boy, Hermione, who had been sitting rigidly for most of the meal, whispered harshly to her friends, “Hurry and finish up, we need to grab some extendable ears and see what they’re saying.”

Harry and Ron started, particularly Harry. He was usually the one who suggested eavesdropping.

“Why… exactly?” asked Ron. It was a curious situation, but he wasn’t exactly sure why they would need to know what Dumbledore said to the boy. 

“Just,” she began, “...I’ll explain after. Just… come on.” She then stood, and looked at the others intensely until they stood, too, and followed her as she hurried away. 

Not a minute later were they settled on the second with an extendable ear dangling down above the doorway of the living room where Artemis Fowl was.

“Hermione, could you tell us, now, why exactly we’re doing this?” asked Harry, only for Hermione to shush him violently a moment later when a murmur of voices began to flow through the ear. Professor Lupin was speaking.

“...is Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” 

“Ah, then there are enough of you that there is a school to educate your children…. Fascinating. Why did you wish to speak with us, headmaster?” said Artemis.

“Well, my boy, dear Mrs. Weasley asked me here to determine what is to be done with you.”

“‘What is to be done with me?’” The trio could almost hear the boy raising his eyebrows. “Nothing is to be done with me. I will be returning home as soon as possible.”

“Not quite, Mr. Fowl. Before anything, you must be registered as a werewolf with the Ministry of Magic --”

Here Lupin cut in. “But, headmaster, are you sure that’s a good idea, with all the recent anti-werewolf regulations? They’ve made it nearly impossible for me to get a job. And the register is accessible to anyone -- anyone curious enough to check at the ministry would be able to see Artemis is a lycanthrope.”

“That sounds a bit too much like a sex-offender registry to me. No, I don’t think I will be doing that,” agreed Artemis.

“I have my reasons for asking you to do this, Mr. Fowl. It’s not common knowledge, but the few muggles known to have lived through werewolf attacks have almost invariably developed magic of their own -- weak magic, albeit, but still enough magic to be called witches and wizards. They often go on to live in the magical community, in which, if they are discovered to be unregistered, they will be imprisoned. I would like to offer you a place at Hogwarts, and for this, you must be registered.”

There was a pause, then, “No.”

“No?” whispered Harry. “Who wouldn’t want to go to magic school?” Hermione shrugged slightly, her attention still fixed on the conversation below.

Remus seemed to have the same question. “Er, why exactly wouldn’t you like to go to Hogwarts, Artemis. There will be other people your age, and --” Here Artemis cut him off.

“I’ve been in and out of boarding schools for the past decade at the behest of my mother, and am, overall, worse off for the experience. Besides, on top of having completed multiple PhDs in various subjects, I am legally nineteen years old. Check the public records if you like” 

“‘Legally?’” said Harry. He made eye contact with Ron, who quietly asked, “What’s a PhD?”

“Mr. Fowl, you can no longer go home. As a werewolf, your muggle friends and relations are defenseless against you. You would be a danger to them.”

“I have endangered their lives since I was a child, this makes no difference. We will manage.” Artemis’ voice was colder than they had heard it so far. “You will find that there is little anyone can make me do without my cooperation.”

There was another stretch of silence, before Dumbledore spoke again. “Perhaps this, then. Our Muggle Studies professor has tragically died over the summer, and we have yet to find someone to fill the position. Having lived as a muggle until now, you have the expertise needed in the field. You will be paid, given your own quarters, and have access to some of the rarest books and finest minds in the magical world. What do you say, Mr. Fowl?”

“...Very well,” Artemis responded, words slower than before, head apparently filled with thoughts of all the knowledge to be gained. “I will teach at your school.”

“And register yourself?” asked Dumbledore.

“And register myself,” he said, perhaps too quickly to be trustworthy. There was a shifting sound, perhaps of someone standing up. “We will discuss the details later. First, I must contact my family. The last they saw me, I was being mauled by a ravenous beast. They will worry.”

“Follow me, then, Artemis. I’ll show you how to owl them, said Remus.”

There were footsteps, and Hermione hurriedly pulled up the extendable ear before anyone could catch a glance of it. 

“Now, will you tell us what’s going on?” Harry asked quietly as Lupin and Artemis Fowl passed below.

“In your bedroom,” she said, gesturing for them to follow.

*

The primary form of communication for these “wizards” was owls. They delivered packages and letters like carrier pigeons. Couldn’t a society with the capability of instant teleportation develop a faster postal service? 

Artemis shook his head. This train of thought would bring him nowhere useful.

Lupin had told Artemis to, after he had finished his letter, hold it out to the owls. One would take it, he’d said. There were only two, at the moment; a large, elegant snowy owl, and a tiny grey one hyperactively moving about and pecking at things as the larger one looked on in what seemed to be disappointment. These owls had more personality than most animals Artemis had encountered. Perhaps they were some kind of familiars?

Artemis held out his finished letter to the two. The smaller one raced toward it, beak open, ready to take the parchment, but the snowy owl gently batted it away with a white wing before lifting up its leg, talons open to accept the letter. Artemis handed it over and opened a window, and the bird took off with several powerful flaps.

Artemis returned to the dining room where none remained but Mrs. Weasley, nibbling occasionally from a plate of food at the table as she set the kitchen to rights. She looked up as he stepped in. “Oh, hello, dear! Have a seat.” Artemis sat. “So, how was it?”

“I am to be the muggle studies professor.”

“Oh, lovely! I thought the subject might have been cancelled after what happened to poor Professor Burbage this summer.” She came to the table and leaned on a chair opposite Artemis. “But why not be a student?”

“I have trouble interacting with people my own age on a personal level. This will be a better arrangement, to be sure.” That was true enough. But this woman liked Artemis for some reason. Best not ruin that alliance by telling her he’d acted so contrary because that old man had dared to attempt manipulating him.

“Well, you seem like a very sharp lad, Artemis, and if anyone so young could take over the position, it’d be you.” She smiled, and Artemis smiled back. He told himself this was not because he liked her, but because niceness benefited him at the moment. He wanted to learn more about magic, and besides that, he did not know where he was. He did not even have shoes.

No, it was best to cooperate for the moment. He could act as he liked once things were again to his advantage. For now, though, it was better to play nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's been almost two months (2 months > 1 week). Oops.
> 
> I'm still alive, in case you were concerned.
> 
> I'm back now, and would like to thank everyone for their feedback on this story.  
> Thanks for sticking around!
> 
> Also, as you know, in The Order of the Pheonix, a boggart is encountered in Grimmauld place when it is being cleaned. I may have Artemis come into contact with it in a future chapter, so I wanted to ask, what form does everyone think Artemis' boggart would take?


End file.
